Lying Truths
by imaginationstarie13
Summary: Seven years mark the difference of then and now. Addictions to lying and deaths have marked the difference of one of the top Assassins, Lying Rook, from a teenage boy who was once simply Frank Hardy. Corresponding story to Truthful Lies.
1. Chapter 1

Hello people! Welcome to my twisted stories! Before I allow you a peak, I ask that you read these next notes:

First off, this is a sequel to the part called Snake, which is part I of my Assassins series. HOWEVER, it does not mean that you have to read it. In fact, I'll be trying to summurize what happened in their in here. That way, you know the crucial parts. If you have the time, I wouldn't mind if you read the other three stories (titles and order are somewhere in my bio). But, like I said, if you don't want to, don't.

Second of all, if you saw the summary, there is mention of a corresponding story that I'm posting at the same time (in this case, it's Truthful Lies). There is a reason why they are not combinded into one story: each brother gets a specific story. Reasons for that are, while there are some scenes that will be the same, each brother has their own perspective in it. As in, if Frank is enjoying something, Joe might be getting really sick. Also, there are a lot of times where they are split up and have different experiences. Each experience and perspective are there own and I feel should not be mashed together. Therefore, the split. You can read each separatly, just know that there are different bits of info in one that is not in the other, like conversations or secrets, and I will post a chapter to each at the same time. So expect long delays.

Finally, I do not own the Hardy Boys. With things like this fanfic, I've been told it's for a good reason.

So, come and enter Frank's story and enjoy!

* * *

The man stepped aside as the younger the two stepped into the house. The guest wanted to grin. Of course, that would be defying his nature. And this was not worth it for the prize of this hunt.

"So how is Fenton doing?" the other man asked. "I haven't seen him for quite a long time."

"He's fine," he lied. However, despite this, his face naturally revealed that he was telling the truth. It was almost like a gift made just for him which he couldn't help but appreciate.

"He should call. We haven't caught up for years."

"I'll pass the message along."

They walked to the kitchen in silence. The young man counted the number of steps it took in his head. Twelve. Hm.

"So, what brings you here Frank? Solving cases like your old man?"

"Yes. There's a particularly tough one that came our way."

"Do you need any help?" The other man was getting out two glasses and then proceeded to the refrigerator for something for them to drink.

"Yes." He paused for effect. "You're a bachelor?"

The host laughed. "I don't know how that would help!"

"Just curious."

"Haven't attached myself to anybody in decades!"

"Oh. Thanks." He accepted the drink. Lifting the glass to his lips, he asked, "What do you know about the Network?"

The man froze.

"Obviously, you don't," he continued, the sarcasm evident in his voice. "Bet you didn't put poison in my drink either." With that, he quickly flung the glass into the counter over the others head, making sure that the contents hit his attempted killer.

The scream filled the air quite nicely in his opinion.

"That bad? But you wouldn't think of killing little ole me with something that can easily burn your eyes? I mean, you must be screaming for another reason."

The gun tucked within the waistband of his pants was pulled out slowly, which allowed the older man to think and let the fear sink in. After all, while his killings were usually cleaner than his brother's physically, he left an untraceable mess that defined him. It wouldn't be doing much to defy his characteristics now.

"I'm in a rush," he lied again, before allowing a bullet to penetrate on of the legs. "I'll be quick. After all, your sweet other will be here very soon, right?"

The man, who had crumbled to the floor and was in obvious plain, tried to crawl away. The killer laughed. Honestly, who do these people think he was? If they hadn't noticed, they had made sure that Frank Hardy was good and dead years ago. All that was left was him, Lying Rook, one of the top members in the new Assassins.

Of course, they never really thought that they could push someone so far, now did they?

"I'm pretty sure you didn't hear me the first time. Now tell me, what do you know about the Network?"

* * *

**7 Years Ago**

Frank Hardy was living what one might call a good life. For the first time in his sixteen years of existence, he knew what it was like to have a whole, functioning family.

At least, that was what he told himself. And he had developed a habit to lie, even if it was to himself.

There he goes, lying to himself again. It wasn't a habit to lie. It was an addiction. A craving that he filled by just opening his mouth and speaking. Of course, surrounded by the settings he was currently in, he could not lie as much as he wanted to. That, in turn, made it more probable for the teenager to lie to himself.

His main problems stemmed from his father, semi-retired world famed PI, Fenton Hardy. It had become a combination of what the man had and hadn't done for his family. A man who had thought that he deserved his title as father and should have perfect children that reflected his own choices… Frank would always laugh at the thought. What right did the man possess to think of such things after leaving them alone to their own fears and dreams? None was the answer. But, as always, Fenton blinded himself from the truth. He couldn't have been the reason for Frank's attempt at suicide! In fact, any and all reasons for any disapproving actions always fell on them!

"I care for him," Frank lied to himself that morning. "Joe means nothing to me."

His brother, who was sitting against the wall opposite of where the bed was, looked up. "Love you too."

It was becoming a ritual between the siblings in the morning ever since they had to move. The blond had his own room, but would always sneak into Frank's before the sun rose. Jackie would sneak there too, but less frequently than the other.

The thought about the move brought a bitter taste into Frank's mouth. Their father thought that it would be best to protest their identities from others while the mess at ATAC was sorted out. The corrupt members were almost cleared out, but not in the legal battle that Fenton would have approved. Instead, Frank and Jackie had taken it into their own hands once the FBI made it clear that they couldn't help in any other way.

The duo had faked their deaths and killed off the corrupt members one by one. While Frank would have never done such an act by himself, the split personality that he had developed while forced to undergo training with weapons for ATAC had no such issues with ending lives. Snake, as the personality had dubbed himself, had eased Frank into a life of killing with little to no remorse and gave him the strength to defy his father. In fact, it felt as if Snake were more of a parental figure than Fenton Hardy ever was.

Joe had been an issue that was easily remedied before something happened to make him a casualty.

At first Jackie had taken it upon herself to "stalk" Frank's brother and stop any attempts at his life. The blond did not know, but there had been six almost successful times where the corrupt section had won out the battle. Jackie, however, proved her skill and stayed a step ahead each time. It had almost gotten worse, since those _monsters_ wanted to make sure that the blond's knowledge of a certain combination to a safe (which Joe hadn't even realized was for enough to put them away for a very long time) was never used.

This event, in turn, along with a few other factors, had set off the first kidnapping. Joe had expressed extreme anger at Frank for not sharing the fact that he was alive, but quickly set out helping him. The younger Hardy sibling had lied to their father, stole some files, and even killed some people. Of course, he had to be pulled away from existence as well. They managed to fake his death on Joe's fourteenth birthday while kidnapping their mother to move her to a more secure location.

It seemed to go downhill after that. While they did manage to kill off all of the serious corruptors of the group, Fenton had found out Frank's identity in the mess and instantly condemned him as a cruel murderer of everyone. While it could have been understandable when taking in Joe's "death", there were others issues with the man not accepting his responsibility for Frank's suicide attempt or anything else that occurred.

Once they were sure that Fenton would easily give them up to the law despite knowing the full truth, Frank was convinced that his father would never be anything more than a hindrance. He didn't understand anything but his sense of justice. Frank silently mused how this man could comprehend the twisted minds of others to become the successful PI he was known as if his thinking appeared linear.

"Let's get breakfast," Joe offered, standing up. "We have to finish fixing up the computer things later."

"I'm starving," Frank responded with a laugh.

Joe frowned at the phrase. "How the hell were you able to sneak a revolver into here without someone else finding out-"

"I haven't touched one since we've gotten here, Joe. What are you trying to imply?"

"That you're a completely different person than who you were before this mess happened." Joe sighed and, using the wall as leverage, got up. "You're still my brother and I love you."

"You were never my brother."

The blond rolled his eyes as he headed out of the door. "I'll let Jackie deal with you with her sarcasm later."

As the door slipped closed, Frank pulled said revolver from under his pillow. He had grown past the uncomfortable feeling of the metal beneath his head as he slept long ago, something he had picked up after killing the man who was supposed to be a mentor. Absentmindedly, he spun the chamber filled with five bullets, pointed the barrel at his temple, and pulled the trigger.

Snake still refused to let him die.

_Can men really fused their soul with objects?_ The question of why Snake would do such a task when he "died" never appeared in his head. After all, the personality grew and disappeared just for him. Only for him.

He was so weak before Snake showed him the way.

He tucked the gun away underneath some loose floorboards he had discovered the first day of moving. He had set up his room so the bed was positioned above the hiding spot. Paranoia had become a friend, after all.

He finally lifted his gaze to the door. "Watching your son try to commit suicide by playing Russian roulette is very healthy, isn't it Mom?"

The woman didn't answer, and instead stared at her son from the crack that the doorway and door had created.

"Very healthy indeed…" he muttered, realizing that she wasn't going to answer. He got up and opened the doorway before brushing past her.

"I'm not surprised."

Frank paused at the words.

"I should have realized after finding that letter about your suicide," the woman continued softly. "The only thing that kept you from trying again was the idea of Joe dying. But you never got over that want."

"How would you know?"

"You aren't the only one who wondered how much Fenton would change with a family member dead," she whispered.

The words seeped into Frank's heart quickly, but he refused to let his surprise show. How many people has that bastard hurt without a second thought? Or worse, how many people has he hurt without even realizing?

"It'll be okay," he lied.

This time, Laura Hardy paled at the words. She somehow knew that he wasn't being truthful. But instead of protesting his words or meaning, she just simply nodded and turned away.

It took Frank a bit longer to understand what was behind his own words. Things would never be okay for this family. He should have realized that from the start. His own wishes and pinning, however, blinded him from this simple truth: his family, despite all that they had been through together, will not be able to stand the test of time.

He couldn't help but wonder if Fenton Hardy would be able to continue on with no one behind him.

* * *

The beginnig of the twist...


	2. Chapter 2

This part has two bases. One, there's a reference to split personality/DID that I am pretty sure is somewhat accurate from pysch class. If not, it still posses some questions for Frank and therefore still here. I will mention if I find out if this is wrong (but since discoveries about it are still in progress... I probably will have to say this is wrong at one point or another).

Some sensitive subjects, mostly a track of Frank's mind. If anyone has read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, I had some influence in the thought progress.

Anyways... I don't own Hardy Boys. It's probably because I do this to characters *points to chapters* and it's supposed to be for young boys to read.

Enjoy!

* * *

Lies slipped into the room with his helmet tucked under his arm. It was a long drive back to the current base for their operations, but he figured it was worth the kill tonight. He had made sure to make quite a mess for some soul to find whenever they actually entered the house. With any luck, it would be after the Network realized that they're location was revealed. However, from past encounters, Lies had realized that the secret agency had already failed in many areas of intelligence, and this matter might fall into that rather large category.

Still, one could hope for the challenge.

Placing his hand in an open position near the polished table, the brunette easily stopped the container of greasy Chinese food that was pushed his way. A nod of thanks was barely acknowledged by the blond who was digging into his own box of noodles with a pair of chopsticks.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"Knew what?" The question was towards some unknown factor, so Lies wasn't able to answer properly. Instead, he fell upon the mutual, silent agreement that the brothers had: questions were neutral ground; therefore they could imply lies or truths that they couldn't in a statement.

"Forgotten sent a message. 'Masks come off.' Ring any bells?"

He smirked. "No."

"Damn it Lies!" Truth slammed the box onto the table. The mass of noodles flew up about an inch, and as it came down some spilled over the edge, hanging by the tangles they formed with the rest of the food. The oil and grease and other ingredients gave them a glowing shine under the light from the lambs placed throughout the room. "Why?"

_Should I bother defying my nature for this?_ The assassin just looked into the blue eyes. "Hiding in masks doesn't change the plan."

Truth's eyes seemed to try and pierce him, but he managed to hold off on his own. After a full minute crawled by, Truth broke the gaze. "It's revenge, isn't it? Them seeing all the people who were supposed to be on their side strikes the kind of fear you love to deal in. And they already know that some of us are involved, just not the extent. Why not make it funnier for us? Besides, we've been eluding them for years, so why not add a challenge?"

Lies frowned out of habit. "I wasn't thinking that."

"Right."

Silence settled between the two as they ate. Background noise called for his interest, which he allowed himself to listen to and make observations and guesses from. Someone was running outside, breathing raggedly as he attempted to get a workout. Or maybe he was running from an enemy, with fear pasted to his face, wondering about how to escape, maybe tinted with the idea that this was how he was spending his last moments alive before-

"Do you think he's there?" Truth asked.

Lies didn't bother asking who the other man was referring to. "He's not important. Why would they bother?"

A grim expression settled on his brother's face. "I was afraid of that. You think he'll change after he wakes up from the coma?"

Lies felt the expression mirror on his face. The truth of the situation wasn't something either really wanted to face. However, it was the unfortunate reality that they were trapped in. There was no changing it. All he could do was comfort his brother with the lies he often disillusioned himself with.

"Yes."

* * *

**7 Years Ago**

Frank leaned against the back of his chair, filling out the crossword without much thought towards the puzzle. It had already past his interest, but it made him look like he was doing something, which was what he was aiming for as thoughts filled his head.

The correct term for what he supposedly suffered from was "dissociative identity disorder." To oversimplify things, it said that Snake was not another person. It was still him, but just a different part. The idea had been playing around his mind on and off sometimes. This was one of those "on" days.

Was Snake really him? It was a curious question to consider. Since the other personality had appeared, Frank felt as if he was being guided. But, as expected of him, he first rejected the notion of becoming a killer, himself or otherwise.

So what made Snake a part of him before the change?

The truth came as he penciled in some letters. _Indifferent to death and dear old Fenton Hardy._

There was no point in lying to himself at this point. They both shared the dislike of Fenton (despite Frank's continuous attempts to gain some positive attention) and could care less for death. Frank only lived at that point to protect his brother. Snake lived to rub it in faces and kill more.

Frank penciled in more letters as his mind continued to wander around. It was another question that might as well be asked: Did the old Frank Hardy have a killing bone in his body? It felt like a stupid question with a simple answer: no. He was too structured to defy his father at that point in time.

But wasn't suicide just like murdering oneself?

Had it developed then, in those moments where he was willing to take his life when he thought it would protect his brother? Did he realize at that time that he had suddenly changed his life into what it now was? Hiding away in the woods with the blood of many men on his hands and the addiction to tell only lies and dream of deaths.

Of course, there was the fact that he was now connected to the Assassins.

And as if on cue, the cell in his pocket vibrated to inform him of a text. He pulled it out and allowed the message to flash up on the screen before quickly deleting it. Joe had made his choice permanent. He would relay this little fact to the others before planning their disappearance with Jackie. It was only a matter of time.

He loss himself to actually finishing the puzzle, and completed it quite easily. It was only minutes after he finished that the doorbell rang, filling the silent house with noise for the first time.

"Guests?" he muttered. He sat himself straight up on the couch, subtly making sure that the blade he had tucked away would stay hidden. It was hard to hide the revolver, especially with Fenton around. Their father (as much as the title pained him to say) would probably easily have noticed, which would ruin the lies Frank had built up. A blade, on the other hand, was able to stay hidden a bit easier yet still lethal when properly used.

The fact that the victim would die a more painful death was another attraction, but that one was kept at the back of his mind.

Fenton was already at the door and greeting the two people as Frank got up. As the trio of people walked into the living room, their eyes met for a second, which was more than enough to tell the teenager what he needed to know. The man still did not trust him. It was beyond his caring or abilities to try and gain it back. Frank had already accepted it and moved on. The question now was could Fenton understand.

"Frank, this is Eugene and Cassandra Gray. They're Arthur Gray's kids."

"A pleasure to meet you." The lie rolled off smoothly. "Your father is an amazing person from what I've heard."

"Thank you," Cassandra said in a soft voice. The gun on her hip seemed to mean nothing to her confidence. The young woman seemed timid. Her brown hair was pulled back for the purpose of convenience while the eyes of similar color seemed to jump as a way of exploring the room.

Eugene, on the other hand, had a confident stance. His eyes dared people to question him. But there was something else… His face seemed to possess whatever Arthur Gray's face had when the picture of him was taken. A single picture, but nonetheless very telling.

"I heard about the split personality," he got right into saying. Frank kept the smile plastered on his face to hide his emotions. Part of him or not, this man probably didn't deserve to talk about Snake at all. But he let him be, allowing the almost silent footsteps of Jackie's ascent to Joe's room calm him down slightly. "You feeling better?"

"Better than before," the brunette lied again. "The psychologists are the main help. But it's weird. Do you know anything about personalities suddenly disappearing?"

"Not much," Eugene admitted.

"Well, it's a long road to recovery. I'm just glad I'm returning to my normal mindset."

"Well, it's all a nasty business. I'm glad the treatment is helping."

"So am I." By now, Frank was aware of the footsteps from the stairs. The two other teenage occupants of the house made their appearance, He bet Joe already heard the lie, but that didn't bother him. The fact that two people in the house could truly understand what he was thinking was more than good for him.

Fenton noticed the teens after what felt like forever to Frank. "Joe, Jackie. Meet Eugene and Cassandra Gray. Eugene, Cassandra, this is Joe, and this is Jackie."

"Charmed," Jackie replied automatically. Already, the brunette could see her trying to distance herself from the guests. As far as they were concerned, they were going to try something. It was only right for them to be able to retaliate.

His younger brother took a more direct approach. "It's something with the Assassins, isn't it?"

It was amusing, to say the lease, to watch Eugene try and size up Joe. However, the blond wasn't going to back down at all. He was compromised, if only to end the stalemate. "That was why we were allowed a bit of leeway with the corrupt guys in ATAC. And we assume that Dad would get notice if the second group was captured. It's logic."

Logic. Simple, pure logic. If only the world worked that way sometimes.

Frank's eyes caught someone coming up the walkway. Unlike the other two, he felt that she was on a level that was above them at the moment. She had some kind of power that could easily crush those in her way. But to be hiding it all from the world… there was something else going on.

Even lying to himself wouldn't fix what was to come.

* * *

Yup, Arthur Gray's kids. And there are more than two, so don't be surprised if they suddenly... "pop" up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow, it's been a while. Darn you real life and all the stuff I procrastinate on.**

**Might as well note that the names in the first half aren't traditional names. Codenames between the Assassins are... interesting.**

**And if I don't manage to update before the new year, happy 2011 everyone!**

**Still don't own the Hardy Boys. And enjoy!**

"He still seems upset. I feel sorry for him." Wire shot his friend a smile in sympathy. "I can't blame him, though. I wouldn't be able to kill someone of similar blood."

"It's the easiest thing in the world," Lies said with his usual smirk. "Once I got through a certain bitch, it gets easier to do."

"You're humoring me, Lies. You haven't killed another relative since her."

"How can you be so sure? Guilt might not hurt me-"

"Don't keep that in your heart. You'll do us all a favor if you kept the hatred that made you what you are." Wire adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, as if the conversation were some kind of business deal between the two Assassin members.

"I make no promises my dear enemy." Lies allowed himself to get a look of pondering on his face. "What do you gain from forgotten anger anyways?"

"The man who saved me from myself that night. I still wonder where you manage to get the strength... But that is neither here nor there anymore, is it?"

"A future cannot be made from the past as you know, Wire."

"Really? I think we need to discuss this among ourselves with the presence of Riddle. A dinner, I think."

"Truth?"

"He may come if he wants, but I have a feeling that his presence will be among the others." As if on cue, the echoes of a chessboard clattering on the ground followed by the rain of pieces filled the area. "Let me rephrase: he i_will_/i be among them."

"Anger ruled his heart for too long."

"Anger is only a means of transportation for movement and power at times. What else can boil blood so well?" A young woman walked slowly towards them with a certain air surround her. It had intelligence and death mixed into its folds with hints of sadness and coldness.

The Rook just shook his head. "The adrenaline can't do so much for us, now can it?"

"That was dangerously close to the truth. Channeling something else today, Lies?" Riddle Bishop's eyes bore into his soul, trying to read his true intentions. "Defying even yourself? I can only assume that Truth has no idea about what's really going on. Are you two sure-"

His revolver aimed at her temple before she could even finish the question. Riddle turned to face the barrel with a single eyebrow raised. "Resorting to such methods? My, my, I've set the flame on, haven't I? And if killing blood is so easy, what about the web of emotions that acts like blood? Does it not matter?"

Lying Rook stared right back at her, not even moving as she spoke. It felt as if a full minute had passed, with Wired Pawn just watching. There was a slight smile on his face that one could interpret as a way to mock the silent fight.

Finally Lies allowed his arm to slack, and the barrel finally left the spot next to Riddle's head. "I don't apologize."

"I accept this and the dinner later. I think that the lies will fall apart sooner or later, so we might as well rebuild the walls." She turned away swiftly and walked towards the door. Before attempting to find her way out into the night air, Riddle muttered. "Seven years almost to the day. I wonder what she thinks of us."

"She's proud of us," he answered, invoking a response from those who were listening in. While they understood, it was still a shock to them. After all, Lies hadn't spoken a truth in front of them for years.

Wire just sighed at the looks. "You should all know better."

Heartless sent the other man a glare. "Recount the last time you heard him spoke a truth."

"The same time as you, I believe."

Heartless's companion shook his head in what was probably annoyance, but could have been amusement. After settling his eyes on Lies, Puppet said, "This might be the first time I've heard you speak the truth at all."

"The confusion can stop once the wind settles. But trapping it inside just allows it to reinforce itself if given the fuel." Riddle turned back towards her destination. "It'll be good for us all to disperse these fears." And with that, she pushed open the door and disappeared for the time being.

The next thing Lies was able to interpret was that someone had punched him, hard. He was sent flying to the ground, trying to comprehend the situation. On reflex, his body turned and placed his hands out to absorb the impact of landing. Within another instant, the revolver was pulled out again. This time, the barrel was staring his brother down.

"That bad?" Truth almost whispered the words. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"It was about her." The unsaid statement lingered after the sentence. _She's different._

"But she linked back to him in the end. She had to have come up alongside with him." Truth pulled out the sword from the sheath that seemed to always be attached to his belt. "I was there, remember? I get the same nightmares all the time. I-" Suddenly the young man paused. "Never mind."

"Huh." Betrayed shook her head slightly. "There are things worse than nightmares, aren't there?"

The two brothers shared a look, before Truth whispered out the answer. "Of course there are. Reality tends to be the worse of it all."

* * *

**7 Years Ago**

There was some kind of tension that sunk into the air. Frank could easily feel it and if the faces that his siblings were making were of any hint to their thoughts, they felt it as well. Their parents, on the other hand, were oblivious to the air that the three Network agents brought with them.

_Fenton Hardy, best PI in the world,_ Frank thought sarcastically. Once again, the teenager questioned his father's supposed detective abilities. Were all retired PIs like this, or was it a matter of the luck of the draw?

The brunette listened quietly to everything Eugene told them, and looked as if he was hanging on to every word. In truth, he was listening with some attention devoted to the speaker, but otherwise was laughing to himself mentally. All that Eugene was talking about was all the "suspicions" that they had about the Assassins. Already, Frank estimated that the mistakes in their logics would fill out a few pages.

His brown eyes caught the slight movement that Joe made while listening from his spot on the couch. Jackie had taken her seat in between her adoptive brothers, while Laura had taken to Frank's other side. Fenton, being the cold hearted bastard that Frank had found himself portraying his father as, stood apart from the family with a frown that seemed to get deeper as they found out more.

_There isn't much to like, is there?_ he mused to himself. _A pleasant conversation of deaths sits well here._

As much as he hated to admit to himself, Frank could offer some understanding to his father's feelings. He had fallen into the same trap of thinking a certain way: the brand of justice that Fenton had molded and allowed to set in his own mind. But Fenton Hardy had forgotten a great rule that many others had ignored.

There were always shades of gray.

It had taken Snake quite a while to make that idea stick into Frank's mind. After all, Frank really didn't want to believe it himself. Sure, there were the few that he had caught that killed for what they thought were noble intentions. But the brunette had dismissed them as delusions. It was not until Snake forced him to face the same experience that he questioned to a higher degree than before. It was something even Jackie didn't see while they were first escaping. But, with some reflection on this, the idea had been within him the whole time. It just needed the proper motivation for him to accept it.

He allowed his mind to wander back to Snake. What would have happened if he hadn't accepted the position with the Assassin Agents project? The board members would have tried to recruit Joe, something that the brunette would not have been able to live with. But looking beyond that moment of choice was the real question that made Frank ponder. What would have happened if ATAC was never filled with corrupted adults? What if everything went the way it was supposed to? Or rather, the way Fenton Hardy would have dreamt it to go. The teenager had no doubt that this would have delayed, if not altogether stopped, any attempt for him to break away. Maybe he would have even grown to love and admire his father the way it was portrayed by the media.

_And surely the suicidal thoughts would have stayed if I did care so much._

He glanced over to the side and saw his brother's mouth moving to ask the agents a question. Frank managed to catch the words, "…do that?" before he drifted away from the conversation. The blond teen had it all covered at this point. All the brunette had to do was toss in a question here and there and look like he was paying attention. Between Joe and Jackie, they had the conversation close to memorization.

The last thought still lingered in his mind. Suicide had played some role in his world as well. After all, it had brought the brothers closer together than ever. But there was something else to that moment where he had almost killed himself. There had been a realization of sorts. A thought that drove him to attempt in the first place that he had yet to admit.

Frank would have done anything and everything to give his brother a more enjoyable life. He was ready to take his own life on the possibility (which was slim, if he really thought about it with all of the confounding variables involved) that Joe would have the father they had both dreamed of since they were little.

_This detective probably got everything right on one of those tests they give parents at open house to see how well they know their children. Didn't even need to think hard on that one._ A bitter feeling rose up. Did Fenton even go to an open house in his life? The memories that he recalled had only their mother, who had made every effort to show how much she cared for her children.

"So," he said, adding himself to the conversation for a second, "they could possibly have enough people to recreate the full force of the Assassins?"

Almost as soon as the words left his lips, Frank thought about his mother. She had not said a word more about him playing Russian roulette that morning. But she had not lied to herself and said that it never happened. Rather, it was as if she had accepted the fact and resided to let fate play out.

But the problem for Frank was that she seemed to have given up hope at the same time.

The hope that most parents would had have in her shoes would not have been a lie. Instead, it would have been wishing for something with only a small chance of occurring. It would have been a better option to hope for the near impossible than to give up at times. After all, the events people called miracles happen all the time. Human life itself relies on chance of meeting and survival. Hopelessness was not something that was worthy enough to settle within his mother's mind.

A snatch of conversation slipped into his mind. Joe, masking whatever emotions that were coursing through him, asked, "Has it been approved?"

"Why would you care?" Eugene's response was filled with enough anger and annoyance to tick the usually calm brunette boy off.

Frank altered his face slightly, breaking his own mask of emotions to let some of the rage slip through. His mind reached into the past minutes, attempting to recall what the conversation had been talking about. The factual part of his brain (which had not submitted to following Frank's way of lying and served as a constant reminder of what he once was and once could have been) knew that it was really a hopeless task, as the mind was said to only be able to comprehend one task at a time. Since the teenager was lost in his own thoughts, he had not noticed what had previously been said.

A glance changed this. A look at Jackie's face, with her expression written in a code only the Hardy brothers could understand, Frank understood enough about what the topic had turned to. The brunette wasn't sure how it was possible, but kept the thought from forming as the words came to him. After all, impossible was sometimes simply lacking hope for a rare event to happen.

"It's a valid question. I'm curious myself to know. It has been a long time since the Assassins have posed a threat to security, so did the officials think that this generation was less of a threat than before?"

Every word pained him mentally. The words had truth as their writer. As stupid as it sounded, Frank felt some sort of pain whenever he had to speak the truth rather than the lies that he was fond of saying. There was something more comforting in the lies than the truth could have ever provided him. After all, it was the truth that had given his father a reason to scorn him when the years were younger. It was truth that had taunted him to seek it out and later haunt him. Truth was something that Joe could keep to himself. The lies were the only thing that was left to comfort him.

"It has happened before. It has led to the downfall of many things before." Jackie's words added to her own personality of riddles. Unlike the other two, she had created webs to hide herself in. She didn't let herself have a sense of security through lies, nor had confronted the world through truths. She was the cautious one now, taking Frank's place as the sibling who thought before leaping.

But then what did that make Frank?

Cassandra, in what the brunette assumed to be a bout of great courage and strength, glared at her brother before saying, "That's why we're allowed to be formed now. They think that a faster response to deal with the new group will benefit us in the long run."

"Makes sense," Jackie said, more to herself than the others in the room. At once, the eldest teenager in the room felt like revising his thoughts: Jackie had slipped on a mask made for lying without his knowledge. Maybe there were more truths and lies to her than he realize, despite knowing her as well as he did.

"I'm sure you will be able to deal with them efficiently," Frank said, a smile gracing his lips. His mind, however, was still running through the lies that everyone seemed to be. Each and every one of the people in the room had some sort of lie that made the person that they were much harder to understand. Yet another part of him rejoiced at the idea.

Within all of the personality quirks that they had to define them as their true selves, they were all lying in one way or another. The lies within their supposed truths, if one wanted the words to describe it.

So what was left of them all now?

**Lies telling the truth? *gasps* It's hard to believe.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Wait, I haven't been kidnapped by aliens and left this story? What madness is this?**

**Well, guys, I'm still here. Inactive for... well, forever, but I am here. There's been a lot of stuff I had to work on in real life, and I never had the time to sit down and write out things. When I did, it was Young Justice. I apologize greatly for this.**

**As it has been five months since I've updated this, I have some things that I must say:  
-I am not abandoning this or "Truthful Lies." I plan to see these two stories to the end. However, there might be a difference in writing style.  
-Parts of the plot might not link up together. I remember the big details when I write future chapters, but really small things might slip by. I apologize for any possible discontinuity that could pop up.  
-"Truthful Lies" will not be updated the same time this piece will be. I cannot honestly expect to wait until I'm done with a chapter from each and post them up at the same time anymore.**

**And the usual: I do not own the Hardy Boys.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The restaurant had the feel that made the young man think of cliché ideas of the rich. No matter how many times he had played the part as being one of them, he was an alien that was simply lying to himself. There was nothing else to it: the world that he submerged himself in for long enough that he could pass as one of them in a matter of seconds yet he still wasn't them. He most likely would never be one of them. It wasn't as if the thought had bothered him, however. It was a sign that things were going the way that he felt they should.

It was not as if he had a clear definition of where he was in the social spectrum anyways.

His scarred brown eyes scanned the tables that lay before him. The glamour of the lifestyle shone back with the ever presence hints of the lies within standing out to the man. While his lips had contorted upward in a fake smile, the mere presence of the lies made his eyes light up with joy. It was unexplainable by conventional terms. His obsession with lying was no longer a simple characteristic that defined him. It was him.

His gaze fell upon the couple at one of the large windows. The glass, extending from the bottom of the floor to a few inches less than the ceiling, filtered in enough of the moonlight so it could be the prevalent lighting. The gleam of the candle lights filled the rest of the scene with a bath of gentle flames.

The duo that he was looking for had hidden themselves within the crowd: the table was towards the center window. The two assassins sat next to each other, leaving the seat across from Riddle open for him to sit. Lies walked over without any regard to the staff, gave a nod to Wire, and sat himself down.

"You took your time. What internal demons did you come across on your way here?" Riddle asked. Her eyes never left the cream shaded menu that was in her possession, yet Lies could feel her gaze despite this fact. The even gown she had donned did nothing to attract attention. It was her own way of rebelling against the world.

"The nature of the world, of course," he lied. It a fluid motion, he pulled out his own chair and sat down. Wire shook his head slightly.

"Why must you two define yourselves by your own labels?" the man asked. His dark suit said nothing of his intelligence, yet did not lie outright. Lies felt the corners of his lips pull into a frown.

Riddle chuckled. "What other way is there for us to remember?"

"The past."

"Because the past is so pleasant." Lies took his own menu to gaze at the selection. It took him only a few seconds before finding one that didn't sound too bad for him to eat. He placed it down slowly, noticing that Wire was alternating his glare between the two assassins.

The Pawn let out a breath when he realized that the other two were not going to contribute to his conversation topic. "We existed as the people we were before hell broke loose. That means that I am Phil, you are Jackie, and you are Frank." Wire turned his head to each of his companions in turn. "If we're going to lose ourselves soon, might as well bury this too."

"Fine." Something in the lone woman of the trio suddenly disappeared from her face. Everything about her tightened with the muscles in her face, somehow sharpening her appearance that dared anyone to challenge her. What stood out were her eyes. The mask of mocking that usually greeted Lies gave way to irises that were far sharper. Her gaze swept the restaurant as she muttered, "If only."

"Fair enough," Lies agreed. The truth, while not physically painful to him as it was during the last of his teenage years, still felt odd. It was rare for Truth to hear him like that and Truth was his brother. The other Assassins would probably be able to count the number of times of their own experience on one hand with fingers still left over. "So what's the plan to cure us?"

"No cure. Just burying." Wire's hand held the glass full of water. "We're going after the people who ruin your lives. Isn't there anything that makes you worry about that?"

"Our emotions in the matter shouldn't make a difference," Lies replied back diplomatically. Despite the sheer amount of trust he had in the Pawn, there were things that he was not willing to show the other. Riddle Bishop, on the other hand, had suffered from the same events that sealed his fate.

"It does not do anything to delay the confrontation. Why should we care for them?" Riddle added.

"Don't you wonder what you life would be like if events did not play out the way they did?"

The silence that sat between the trio was weighted with the words. A mere understanding of what was to occur flashed through Lies's mind. There was something within the realm of his imagination that made the reality that much worse. After all, he had not mentally prepared himself for the moment, even during the planning stages. Something within him kept himself distant from the events that had become his life. The coma had saved him so much anguish over someone who didn't deserve his worry.

"Fate has a funny way of making things work." Riddle brought her glass of wine to her lips, pausing before she took a sip. "I'm not trying to speak in riddles."

"I am the liar amongst us," Lies said. He eyed his own drink before taking the glass into his left hand. "You really shouldn't try to be one. It doesn't suit you."

"You know what I meant, Frank. There is something that brought us all together in the first place. It brought you to Snake and the revolver. It brought me to the closest thing to a family."

"So was it fate that prevented the suicide?" Wire asked teasingly. His eyes said something entirely different of the whole matter.

_Fate. Why would she bring up such a thing?_ It was unlike Riddle to place the reason of events outside the realm of understanding. For her to say that it was all the work of fate was as if Lies had told a truth. Some things just didn't work in the way that they were meant to. Even the rules that they imposed on their own existence made more sense than what the woman was saying.

There had to have been a purpose for it all. The dinner was not completely unexpected, as their histories had flowed together and drawn them to the same cause for the past years of their lives. The conversation was also predictable, as the whole situation had thrown the assassin off, despite his experience in comparison to the others. Even the elder assassins were willing to give more assignments to the Rooks as combined they were unstoppable. But fate? That was something different altogether. Unless...

Lies set his glass down as the revelation struck him. It was an unpleasant thought in both connotations and possible foreshadowing of things to come. "You think he'll wake up while we're there."

"If you must use such words, then yes."

"Why?"

"Because fate dragged you apart. Now we're being force to be in the presence of the man that we despised since that time. Can you not see the irony?" She took another sip of the wine before adding, "Don't answer that."

Wire was beginning to frown. "Science would say otherwise."

"Science does not change the fact that there are some things that work so oddly. Science did not dictate such hatred between siblings or children from parents. It does not dictate who exactly is retched out of lives that need the person the most. It just provided the explanation."

"You're speaking in riddles." The frown was more pronounced as the man said each word.

"You might call them riddles, Phil, but that's because you don't understand. Frank understands exactly what I am talking about." Riddle turned her head to Lies. Her eyes were dim with her experience from her work as well as the sheer fatigue that had plagued her from her last assignment. "Don't you?"

"Sadly, yes." Memories of his mother filled his conscious mind. He knew exactly what she was talking about. "So, because of this..."

"Unexplainable fate? It's the only words I can use to describe in all," Riddle offered.

"Yes. Well, because of it, he will wake up. It makes... surprisingly, much sense. I don't know how you do it, Jackie." Lies drew his attention away from his companions as a waiter passed the table. The man's tray was full of plates of savory food, the smell wafting after him. "But why would fate torture us?"

"Not torture. Create. Think of what we've become because of the... intervention, if you will. It all started with the Double A, remember?"

"That wasn't a pleasant time."

"But it brought us to events that created us. It's not to say that I agree, but you must admit that those painful things must have happened for a reason."

"Jackie?"

"Yes?"

"Don't speak of fate, please. I'm not sure how Joe would handle it all." After all, Lies's brother wasn't made to handle such conventions of the world. At one time, it had been reversed. It was Lies who fell to logic and Truth who fell to the forces beyond the explanation and understanding of science. But the world forced them to change.

"You want me to lie?"

"No. Just... do not mention the truth that you perceive."

Wire looked between the two, attempting to follow the conversation. While Lies and Wire had been friends longer, the bond between Lies and Riddle was stronger. Even saving Wire's life from himself was not as important to the assassin as the trials that the man and woman had faced as a teenager. "You're telling her to hide the truth. That's the same as straight out lying."

The two paid him no mind. "It wouldn't matter." Riddle glanced at the people passing their table to access their own. "Who do you think listened to my theories in the first place?"

She was reverting back to her riddles. In turn, he was going back to his lies. "He didn't believe them."

"There's nothing left for us to grasp upon. If we hold onto nothing, we'll drown. Even the hints of a log will do."

The words sat in his heart. Behind her exterior, she had missed the matriarch of the Hardy family as much as the brothers did. "Surviving is impossible."

"Only if we let ourselves drown. The spirit must move somewhere afterwards."

"And if I take the life?"

"His worth cannot replace the lost."

The rest of the conversation was stolen as their own food arrived with the waiter. Wire glanced at both his companions in turn as they accepted their meals. His eyes barely looked at his own. "Riddles and lies. Can you both try not to-"

"It is too late, Phil." Riddle's brown eyes were boring into Lies's. "If we were meant to stop, then fate would have said otherwise a long time ago."

* * *

**7 Years Ago**

The moments had passed too fast for him to recall everything clearly. There were distinct moments that called out to him with ease, but the rest was simply a blur to him with no chance of true recollection.

The ropes against his knuckles that bounded them dug into his skin. Jackie had been shoved against him in the damp corner of the concrete basement. Her lips were pursed in anger. She was not lying to herself the way he did to understand the world. Instead, Frank could almost literally see the wheels in her head turning as she made riddles to herself.

_Will she puzzle herself to the truth or not? Is she willing to lie to herself in order to make the illusion of a peaceful death?_ A smirk began to pull at the corners of his lips. He already knew the answer to his own question. Each of the trio had fallen into their niche and allowed it to become their grave; they embodied a single characteristic. Joe was left with his ugly truths, attempting to find the good of never ending evil. Jackie hid behind her questions and riddles to morph the world until she was ready to face it.

Did that make him a coward?

Lies were never meant to allow for the truth to filter through. They were an attempt to hide the cruelties of the world for oneself and others. It could spare pain for the creator or the listener. But it was never meant to allow one to see the world clearly. The clear world was for people like his brother. He preferred his lies.

Frank's gaze wandered around the large concrete construction. The walls and floor were made up of cold stone. The stairs were made of some kind of wood painted over in a dark color that was very close to being black. Boxes from their move were sorted into piles and placed all around the room. He and Jackie were shoved into a corner far away from their escape, placed under a small window that provided the only light of the large room. The only true anomaly was the large man standing and looking towards the stairs. His clothes were somewhat baggy on his frame, which was surprising as he was very muscular. They were also as run down as he was. He was carrying a revolver in one hand, and talking to someone on his cell with the other.

"Yeah… yeah, I know. They'll wake up soon… no, no, they're only kids!"

"A killer," Jackie muttered. Frank refused to show any of the surprise on his face hearing her talk. "To take something and simply destroy it. Pitiful."

"They can repay it."

"You act as if Hell doesn't exist."

The man closed his phone and turned. When he saw that the two teenagers were awake, he pointed the gun at each of them in turn. "Right, now listen kids. I don't know what you did, but my employer wants any information that you have on some chess pieces. You give it to me, I make you're deaths quick."

"Chess pieces," Jackie repeated slowly. "What about chess? We are not champions or anything of the sorts. Why not ask someone else?"

"I don't know anything about chess pieces," Frank offered. "Anything that I might is pointless information."

"Listen, I'll give you a minute. Don't give it to me and you will all be very, very sorry."

Frank allowed his face to stay on the man as he collected his thoughts. There had been more of men like the one in front of them before he had blacked out. It was safe to assume that they were the reason for the whole thing. But they were grunts to the grand plan. There had to have been someone else who was the brains of the operation. It was the only way to explain the organization.

_Only Bethany._

"She'll kill you in the end, you know." He could feel the smirk rise out of his heart. "Bethany is the type of woman who would get rid of anyone after using them."

"Listen kid-"

"It wasn't like she used us. A few masking techniques in her appearance couldn't have stopped me from identifying her."

"Shut-"

"I know why she's getting rid of us!"

The smirk never left as the teenager felt a jolt of pain run through him. The truth of the whole situation was starting to make sense. The inability to realize it the moment the woman had walked through the door was costly, and all Frank could do was survive long enough to reap revenge.

"She signed those papers for us." The lie had obviously began to dawn on Jackie as well. "Bethany-"

"Both of you-" The man's face was turning red with frustration. He had thought that the killings would have been smoother. Maybe he even had experience. But hebwas dealing with two teenagers that had too much experience for their age. They had each explored the darkness of humans and survived only to both pledge their support to deal in the business of murder. There was no leaving the cycle for them.

"That woman-"

The tip of their captor's combat boot slammed into Frank's stomach. The force used wasn't enough to send blood into the brunette's mouth, but it was painful nonetheless. It did not wipe out his sense of hearing, however, and his ability to locate the quiet footsteps on the floor above him.

"She works for the FBI," Jackie finished. "Hiding behind her mask all day long because she knows who her enemies are. Do you fit into her image of justice? If you don't, you'll end up like us."

The fear was finally beginning to show in the man's face. "What are you talkin' 'bout?"

"She used us. We got rid of a corrupt group that she had no other way of touching. But we did it in the most gruesome way imaginable. Now she wants us erased from her world. And the dead don't talk well."

"But of course, she obviously trusts you," Frank said. "Why else would she let you kill us the way we killed them? It's not like it's a cycle or anything."

"She basically hired us out."

"Did she hire you out?"

"Because that makes you as disposable as us."

A gunshot ended the conversation. The man was as surprised as they were when he heard it go off. There was only a small moment that allowed him to contort his face before he collapsed, the bullet to his head finally taking his life.

"A pity," Jackie muttered. "And I was getting the taste of lying, too."

Joe glared at her, before turning back to look at the man he had killed. The revolver in his hand was shaking as he walked down the remaining stairs. "What… what…"

"We told him a lie about Bethany being in the FBI and approving of our own killings." Using the wall as a support, the girl managed to bring herself to a standing position. "Can you untie us?"

"I- I-"

"Was that man worth it?" Frank asked softly. He was mirroring Jackie's actions to force himself to a standing position without the assistance of his hands, but found it harder to be as graceful. "Is that man worth crying over?"

"No! I- I just-" The blond teenager pulled a razor blade that was tucked into his shoe before walking around the body. "I've done so much in the past few hours."

"You were in the same boat as us," Frank said. Why was his brother singled out? Why would Bethany want him, if not alive, killed differently than them? It was troubling to think that she had thought that he had more worth and therefore required a more painful torture. She had already crossed the two original agents that were trained to kill, but Joe was different. Maybe…

"Dad thought he could save me. I was less tainted than you, so he could save me and-" Joe made quick work of the ropes before collapsing against the stone himself. "He chose me. He fucking chose one of his children knowing that the rest might not survive!" He buried his face within his palms, breathing loudly. His legs were folded and drawn close to him. It reminded Frank that his brother was still fragile despite all of the blood he spilt.

"He was never a man made to love equally, was he?" Jackie asked quietly. "Fenton Hardy was never much of a father but in the one moment that would count… It wasn't as if we should have expected him to change, is it?"

"Always father of the year material."

"Yeah, well… he was leaving with me. And I was so pissed, you know? I had a feeling that he left you guys to- to die. So I managed to get out, and I had Snake's revolver. I snuck out a case of bullets, too. I shot- I don't remember who or where, but it wasn't Dad. But he was coming after me. We were fighting. So I slammed his head against a rock that was there. I was trying to just knock him out."

"An unintended consequence?" Jackie asked.

Joe nodded, never bringing his face up to look at her. "He was bleeding, and- well, Network people were closing in. I just… well, I ran. I had to find you, and Dad-"

"He should be dead." Frank looked at both of his siblings as he said this. Jackie nodded once in understanding. It was Joe, however, where he got his intended response. His head shot up, showing the beginnings of tears in his eyes. His emotions registered as shocked.

"Frank-"

"The Network has enough connections to keep Fenton alive," Jackie said. "Don't worry over it too much."

"Alive, maybe. But how much damage?" Joe hid his face again. "How much damage?"

Frank didn't answer. His eyes feel to the revolver in his brother's hand. There was something about seeing his brother with the gun that that symbolized his corruption that pulled his frown into a smile. "Enough."

"Never enough." Jackie turned her head slightly to look at the corpse. Frank followed her gaze, watching at the growing puddle of blood expand on the concrete. "He-"

"He never did anything," Joe muttered. "Everything that's happened is a result of us. Never him."

The elder two of the trio shared a look. "Our choices, yes. He did not push us," Jackie said diplomatically. "Yet…"

"Could he have done more?" Frank whispered. "Could he have been the father that we needed?"

"Couldn't we grow up without him?" Joe countered. "Did we really need his approval to go on in life?"

"Mom." Jackie's voice was barely above a whisper. "Where is she?"

Frank blinked. He had forgotten completely about the matriarch of the Hardy family. The whole of the problem was focused on the children and the man who was supposed to be a father. The results weren't just limited to them. Laura Hardy was bound to suffer from them as well. The Network wouldn't have left her unattended in their records.

"They were trying to kidnap her." The blond slumped even further in his sitting position. "There was a car crash. Reported it on the radio in the car. That's when I left. I- Fucking hell! I'm so-"

"Don't say it," Jackie whispered. "You'll think it would be true. And you need to be strong."

"Strong? How can I ever-"

"The Assassins will keep you weak." Lying suddenly felt too easy to do. Somewhere inside, Frank was cursing himself out for being unable to comfort his brother the way he should have. There had been hundreds, maybe thousands of times, where he had been able to kneel next to the blond and whisper something that was comforting. But now he was a killer. An assassin. It was as if the ability to be a human was ripped from him when he no longer allowed himself to speak the truth. "It will never work."

And nothing else could have been said.

* * *

**Gotta love the madness.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Another chapter done!**

**Just as my own personal warning, this chapter has psychology things in here that are not necessarily true. This reflects my original plans about the whole Frank and Snake thing _before _I took a psychology class. How much of it is true is probably a small amount, so I apologize for that.**

**Still don't own the Hardy Boys.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The two rooks were in the lone room of the stretch of the hallway. The liar of the duo glanced around the space, subconsciously counting the bodies that had fallen under their bullets. Anything else within fell out of his care. He was sent to make more bodies. If anything was of use, the other was the one who took care of it.

The young man watched as the blood pooled around one of the dead men. Silently, he wondered if the man had a life outside of the uniform. A family, if anything. Friends were nice, but family was usually blood. They were connected despite the words shared between them. It was something that one was born with. It could never really change in all matters of convention.

The assassin shook his head. He was starting to sound like his old self.

Truth gave his brother a look that Lies interpreted as it was meant to. The younger assassin still had something to him that was imbedded by the man they had once called their father. It was the sense of morals that had driven them to help the world. It was the sense of righteousness of the ideal world that they had hoped for. It was the sense of a dream that loses itself when everyone grows up.

"It's nothing."

Truth scowled. "Is it really? You know what kind of battle this has turned into. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised by your thoughts."

"I doubt it."

Truth just nodded as he brought out his gun, aimed over Lies's shoulder, and pulled the trigger. The sounds of a man crumpling down on the ground filled the air after the gunshot echoed. "I hate to have this conversation here of all places, but might as well get it out of the way. What happened to us?"

There were so many ways Lies could have answered the question. However, instead of filling up the silence with a known lie that mocked his father's beliefs or defy his nature by saying something truthful, he said nothing.

"We both know what he is gonna say to us if he was up and about and knew what we became. And in some ways, I can't blame him. How many people have we killed within the last few hours?"

"Enough." The smirk on his lips counteracted with the tone he used in his voice. "More than enough."

Truth's lips contorted into a similar smirk. "And that's what's wrong with this picture."

"Not enough?"

"Definitely."

The two brothers stopped talking after that. Instead became focus on the immediate goal of securing the hallway. They had taken great joy of making sure that the seasoned agents were not able to retaliate due to the sneak attack, but were ready in case there was something that they had missed. It was unlikely, but bound to happen one day.

The conversation picked back up in the next room.

"We wanted to be detectives when we hit this age back then." Truth walked over a dying agent to the computer that was sitting in the corner of the room. He leaned over the chair and examined the contents on the screen. "Something legal, like an FBI agent or a PI."

"With so much death caused by us." There had been so little resistance that Lies felt disappointed. He had fired four bullets and combined with Truth's three, they had easily taken out the seven people. Mathematically it had made sense. Real world factors should have made it so that more bullets were needed. Luck and experience should have at least dictated over ten.

"We would have fired fewer bullets than the amount we now use in a month. We would always respond and never really be the reason." The blonde's hand ghosted over the mouse, silently debating whether to go deeper into the information bank lying before it. "Boring but morally easing."

The woman who had fallen last was against the wall from the force of the bullet. Out of all of the Network agents, she was the only one who still had any sense of life within her. Her blue eyes were dulled and scarred by the moments she had witnessed, but so different from Truth's. His scars were deeper and had been there longer. She was different. Innocent in their eyes.

"And they would have wanted us to stay on the legal parts of life," Truth continued. His fingers were now on the keyboard, violating the privacy that the machine was supposed to offer to its users. "And we could of. Even after being screwed over by the Network like that, we could have looked for justice on the court side. Bring everything to light and stop both sides." He paused, his own scarred blue eyes turning to meet the brown distracted ones. "You could have gotten actual help."

Lies still kept his response to himself. There were some things that he never wanted to address in the present of others, living or dead. Truth understood that in the same way that Lies knew he had to talk out some of his problems. The blond was meant to be a person who talked. He had been like that when he was younger. He was the one of the pair that was expected to make a smart remark or reveal the most emotions. Lies had taken the spot of the level headed one. No one else heard the screams that he whispered or saw through the mask that had become a part of him. Truth had saw through the lies, just as Lies hid the ugly parts of the world from Truth. It was a balance that had kept both of them alive without either of them realizing that the relationship was there. All they had known was that they needed the other to survive.

"But what good would help have done?" The typing resumed, providing a backdrop to the one sided conversation. "He would have been able to get away with much worse to us. Not to say that there aren't kids who live without the bastard of a father and come out fine or better. But it still hurts. They'll never have the feeling of happiness and pride that they get when a father congratulates them for whatever they do that's good in his eyes. Hell, we probably had more of that than them. But why did we turn out the way we did?"

Lies dropped his weight so he was squatting next to the woman. The guns in his grip settled with his hands, the barest amount of their metal touching the ground. There was something about the woman that intrigued the assassin. That was not to say that there had never been one before that he had taken such interest in. There had been several within the years that he came across in his line of work that were simply intriguing to his understanding of the other side of the population. People like her made up the law abiding side that had a bubble that didn't kill.

In all attempts of the assassin's understanding, they were the normal side.

Truth had fallen silent in his own work. The keys were set to his pattern, going on and off at will as the man tried to decipher what was within the computer. Whether he knew that Lies had fallen into his own little world was lost on the older of the two assassins. Sometimes, Lies couldn't help but wonder if his actions even worried the blond anymore.

He turned his focus solely on the woman.

Lies could see something in the blue eyes. He didn't dare call it a memory as that would have placed too much value into what he could see. He couldn't afford to put so much into a single moment. Not then.

_She must be nothing,_ he reminded himself silently. There was something within his own words that made him unsure of whether it was a lie or a truth. He was slightly scared to know which one it was. _If she is something, then Joe- no, Truth-_

"Finished." Lies knew that Truth had looked up from the screen and found where his own gaze lied. There could be questions asked, wonderments pondered, and confusion that could ruin them all. They could not afford to lose. Even indifference to death fell to the sheer importance of the mission that they had set themselves to. "There's a phone here."

"How long?"

"About five minutes, if I had to throw a guess." Truth turned his head to the doorway. "It will make things harder for us, maybe. All of the focus would be diverted to this corridor of the building instead of the others. Agents would rush from wherever they were placed to stop any hints of the Assassins."

He knew that the words were accurate, yet there was something amongst them that stung. It was probably some longing within them for the past. An illusion, more accurately, where he thought that others would run to help him without a thought. He had wanted security back then, simply because he was scared of the world and wanted to know that things would turn out alright.

He had the experience now to know that it was a lie.

"Alright." Truth turned away. He hesitated before picking up the phone. "Thoughts you bastards should know you have a dying woman amongst a bunch of corpses." He placed the phone back down gently. "Let's go."

Whatever conversation that they could have continued ceased. There was nothing else that needed to be said at that moment.

* * *

**Seven Years Ago**

Frank had never felt a hospital visit that was as hopeless as the current one. It was unnatural in some sense, as most of his life had visits that had a sense of hope within. He would dare go as far as to call it "good" as that was what he was taught. Even his newest experiences couldn't quite erase what he had learned. It would have destroyed him in every sense.

He rested his head against the glass, letting the cooler temperature touch his forehead. It lacked the comfort of another person. Even a doctor who would forget his face amongst the many would have been better company at the moment.

_Would Fenton have been better company?_ It was a question that he did not want to have to think about, but there was nothing else for him to do otherwise. The brunette was desperate not to think about the situation. Even turning to the man he should have called his father was a better alternative to lie and know the painful truth.

Frank could only guess at the other man's actions at that point. Joe had repeated his story to both him and Jackie before they had arrived at the hospital for their benefit. Details had filled themselves out. But there was still something missing amongst the words.

_A man like Fenton could easily do things like this without thought,_ he lied to himself. A motive. It was a question of what drove the other to take Joe and leave the other two to certain death. Whether the fact that Laura Hardy was in another car was inconsequential to his musings. It had never involved her before to such a deep level that to think that she was the centerpiece of the mystery was almost a joke. Frank didn't like to think of his mother in that sense, but he had to remove himself from emotions and find the logic. It might be the only way for the trio of teenagers to move on.

There was a car in the parking lot that was under the window that caught his attention. There was a family getting into the vehicle, obviously happy at some good news. Two children were visible from his view, although their faces were obstructed by the back of their heads. Frank guessed that they were happy as they were jumping around and being antsy as they walked. The adults were nearly as happy, although they had a different way of showing it. The father figure (as there was no other word that the teenager could find that would be useful in the situation) had an arm wrapped around the mother. Their walk was relaxed, with what Frank could guess to be a hint of joy.

A stray thought came to his head, this time without the forefront of a lie to conceal the intentions. _That could have been us._ There was no pity in the statement. If he gave it some thought, he would have noticed that the words were said in his mind as some sort of fact from a case. He wasn't able to find the ability to invest emotions within his own words.

It was true that at one point of his years of living Frank felt that the moment he was observing was completely true. There had been no other reason for him to believe otherwise. Everything had been so shallow in his own viewings of his world. Dissecting the ones he thought to be the wrong doers was a second nature. However, he allowed himself to believe things within his own world too easily. There had been much danger for bringing his dangerous work into everyday life. It would have brought chaos and questioning that he would have rather avoided.

"Frank." Jackie's voice was clear in the silence that the teenage boy had surrounded himself in. "I'm surprised that you are not contacting them yourself."

"No need." The lie seemed too simple for him. He was unwilling to admit it, but the lies had suddenly lost his interest since he saw his mother in the hospital bed. Death was too close, and for once it worried him.

"So you say, _Lying Rook._" As an afterthought, she added, "I disabled the security myself. They will not realize until we are gone."

"Nothing else?"

"This hospital is not known for the dramatics that their patients bring in. We're the first of our kind here, really." She stepped up to the window, watching the family disappear into the car. "It was meant for people like them. The background."

Frank did nothing but look at her. The topic of the conversation had already reached a conclusion in a silent manner months ago. "You are-"

"Don't humor me with your lies, Frank. It would do you some good to speak the truth, no matter what pain you suffer." Jackie didn't look at him, favoring the sight of the vehicle. "I know that I'm a background player in your game. You could probably kill me right now and still move on. It's no longer Snake. It's just you."

To some degree, she was right. Snake would have been able to kill her without a moment's hesitation. It would have been quick, maybe even painless, and efficient in the end. Jackie Rose would have been no more. And no one would have cared for a girl with no family that cared and was left to become a weapon under ATAC's guidance. What had saved her was Frank Hardy's need for a companion in the turmoil.

It was a small thing that had allowed her to live.

"Except, it isn't you."

A frown appeared on his face. He was in no mood for her riddles. But this one had something in it that pulled him in. "Really?" A hint of amusement tinted his voice, pulling against the corners of his mouth.

"You were wondering yourself about dissociative identity disorder. There is only so much you could ignore of the therapist that they sent you to before you were left to ponder those words. It brought you questions that you had failed to answer." By then, the car had already gone to the edge of the parking lot. "I will give you my own answer.

"Snake said that he 'died' to describe his ceasing of existence within you. There were no more periods of nothingness in your mind. But for a conscience to simply find an erase button to kill themselves? Suicides would be easier if we knew where in our minds such a thing exists."

The car was long gone from the parking lot, yet both teenagers kept their gazes at the outside. Frank didn't want to look at Jackie as she told whatever she thought to be the truth. Why she didn't look at him was another matter completely.

"I think he lied to you, Frank. He started your obsession with lying. And you clung on, because despite whatever else you believed in, you were the dominate personality. You were the judge and jury. Snake was just the executioner.

"You needed him, and he knew that. But he wasn't made to last forever. He knew that. So he told you a lie to ease your own consciousness while he melted away. Into you. Snake needed Frank Hardy to tell him what to do. Frank Hardy needed Snake for the support and darkness that he never had before. You are the combination of the two."

He allowed the words to sit for a second. Wasn't that a truth he had known all along? He trusted his own judgment rather than the words given by some expert. They had not lived through the events he had. It was impossible for them to figure out everything when they sat on the other side of the case.

But did he know for himself?

Maybe to some level, he did. It would certainly explain the transformation from the teenage boy to a killer. Traumatic events had little to do with it. As a member of ATAC, he found himself contemplating things worse than a quick murder. As the son of Fenton Hardy, he was subjected to worse, whether intentional or not. Corruption to the level that he had fought against should not have set him off.

But wasn't there more? Wasn't there a need to impress his father? Weren't there outside forces that pushed him to do things that only grown adults did? Certainly, the training to handle weapons and use more force than necessary had to have been a factor. There was violence that was expected from him, coupled with the need to prove himself to his father. Even if Fenton Hardy did not approve, it was better than his other attitude towards his son.

Would Snake exist if it were not for the training? Probably not. But would he have continued to exist as a separate mind? That was the real question.

"Is it that hard to believe? Or is it just your unwillingness to accept the truth?" Jackie turned to face him. "Riddles are a part of me, yet I can break away."

"I'll defy my nature this once," he muttered back softly. He owed her that much, after all. The teenager ignored the pain that rippled through his body as he continued. "It's a surprise to some level. But how should I have not expected something like this? Frank Hardy… I have strayed too far from what he was. Maybe it wasn't a lie when we made everyone think Frank Hardy died. I could be the spiritual lovechild of the two without really knowing."

"You're taking it with surprising grace. But then again, we have faced much worse." She cocked her head to the side, and Frank could see that she was contemplating something behind her eyes. "The lovechild of Frank Hardy and Snake is Lying Rook. There is some humor in the madness."

"Very little," he added, drily. "You said that you were only a background character in this. Are you sure of that?"

"Quite. The story of the fall of Frank and Joe Hardy is much more entertaining than that of Jackie Rose." Jackie paused for a second. "If you haven't already noticed, the girl before you now is mellower and finds riddles much more interesting that before."

"Then we have all lost ourselves to the world." He turned his head back towards the parking lot. There was a couple who were getting out of their car. "And Joe?"

"He is directly our fault, I suppose. He had the hatred for Fenton that was needed, but we were the ones who helped directed it to our path. He would not have found it without us."

"It would have been better if I had committed suicide for him."

She chuckled, and Frank couldn't help but feel as if she was mocking him. "Don't be stupid, Lies. This is much more entertaining."

"Lies?"

"A nickname for you. 'Lying Rook' is a bit of a burden on the tongue."

Jackie turned around in a fluid motion, heading back down the hallway. "Your aunt, Gertrude Hardy, is supposed to come pick us up. Until Fenton can show himself, she is supposed to act as our guardian."

"She will find herself surprised, then."

He kept his gaze out on the parking lot. It had become empty as quickly as it filled.

_Lies, huh? Not fitting at all._ His lies kept him company as he thought of his mother's words. There had been a seventy five percent chance of her surviving the operation. There had been no chance if she had not taken it at all. The car accident had created a mess of her body that would have killed her slowly with time if the operation did not first. But her chances of survival were high when she had gone in. Laura Hardy had talked to her children before she disappeared behind the doors, and sent her chances plummeting.

_"There's someone who has to fill in the other percent."_

She had died without being aware of the passing. She had gone in with the intuition that she would not come out alive, rather than continue with what little remained of her life. In some twisted way, it was a mercy killing. How could she have not known that her children were becoming more monstrous with the passing days? Laura Hardy was not blind of her children.

"It'll be alright Mom." His whispered words created fog against the glass. "Everything will be alright."

* * *

**Yup. Laura Hardy is dead. D:**

**(Two (maybe three, but probably two) more chapters left!)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Second to last chapter. *wipes brow***

**I do not own the Hardy Boys.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The room had a hospital like feel to it. It was the first thing that Lies noted about it when he passed through the doorway. It was unsettling to the pit where he had mentally stored away his memories. Hospitals preached about life. It was their way of existence. How many times someone's life had been saved through their efforts?

How many lives have been lost?

Laura Hardy was one of the many that died within their facilities. It was understandable that it wasn't the hospital's fault. The fault of her death lay within the depths of the Network. They were the ones that put her in the car against her will. The hospital had simply failed to reverse the judgment from the car accident. While the chances had been in their favor, there always had to be someone to fill in the other side. Laura Hardy did just that, dying on the operating table that should have saved her. But it wasn't the hospital's fault.

It didn't make what remained of the man feel any better about being in such settings. While it was not unusual for one mission or another to send him into related settings, not a trace of the uneasiness had slipped away. Even through his lies, there was some truth still clinging to him. It was uncomfortable to think that the past that had already shaped him so much was still poisoning him.

The object of most of his hatred was sitting upon the bed, the only obvious occupant to the treatments. Between the two Assassins, there was no challenge to getting to the man. There was something almost wrong with such a thing being possible. They had both struggled with the man for almost all of their lives. Between trying to get the attention that any father should have been willing to bestow upon their child to contemplating murder, there was nothing within their past that could redeem the man.

"So," Truth began, letting the small word draw itself out on his voice, "the Network is actually good at keeping some secrets to themselves. Who would have thought?"

"Now Truth, there are some good qualities about the agents. They're not all good for nothing idiots." The words fell from Lies's mouth with practiced ease. He could see Fenton Hardy's eyes widen with confusion at the sound of the words.

"You're lying, Lies." Truth turned his blue eyes to the lone chart that sat on the desk next to him. He picked it up in his free hand with an air of laziness. "Let's see… Wow, old man, you've been awake for almost a week! How in the hell did the Network kept this quiet?"

It seemed like words were finally returning to the other man. "Frank, Joe-"

The names automatically brought Lies's gun up, the barrel pointing at Fenton and leaving no room for second guesses. "Frank and Joe Hardy, doing the right thing all the time because their dear old dad taught them well. Hm. Sounds like a really well written plot to some book."

"If you haven't figured it out, Fenton, we're not your children anymore," Truth supplied. His fingers were dancing at the edge of the crisp papers. Lies could see his brother retrace words over and over in his head as if there was something hidden amongst the words. It was like the blond to look for something within the obvious. It was the truth within the boring words and the lies that kept him going. It had saved their lives more than once. "Hm, they've only just begun to fill you in on the situation. Seven years requires a bit more time than they seemed to have planned for you. Not that it matters to them, I guess. After all, you're only a means to an end."

"Now wait-"

"Waiting." The word came with a sense of boredom. Lies had no patience for Fenton Hardy. Frank Hardy had given time and chances almost an infinite amount of times when he had just hoped for some true recognition. When Snake had appeared with the extreme opposite side of lifestyle, he had given his father one last chance. The man had simply blown it. There was no more to understanding the other, and no less sleep lost the night afterwards. It was almost too easy for Lies to just move on with life without Fenton Hardy.

"Why don't we give you a quick rundown of what has happened without the Network bias attached? Hm?" A page was flipped with the words. Truth gave no indication that he actually cared to look at the man. "Well, it started with Mom's death. Like it or not, we all played a part in that. Network puts her in a car against her will and ends up in a car accident that ultimately kills her when the surgery fails." As an afterthought, he added, "That one reeks of conspiracy, in case you were wondering. So did them taking me. Something about a staged death with supposed Assassin members. But hey, it was whatever got you moving and helping the Network, right?"

That was when Lies saw what he had once longed for. The sudden shock of the words would not fade as his words once had. While his choices had led to what might have been a corruption of life, it was nowhere near as impacting as death. Unlike choices, the brothers had learned it was final.

"Of course, we couldn't just end things there. Who would be devastated after such a wonderful woman died? Certainly not her husband, placed in a coma because he had tried to do the stupid thing and follow some blind justice." Anger began to filter into Truth's voice. It was rare to hear it and usually required time to build up. For Truth to suddenly bring it up was one of the few signs Lies knew meant that his brother had suffered more than he had let on.

"Certainly not her children," Lies continued, allowing the mocking in his voice to be evident. "They were only going through traumatic effects that shouldn't have impacted their lives one way or another."

"You don't know how much we suffered when she died," Truth muttered. His blue eyes glazed over, giving Lies a look at what little remained of Joe Hardy within his brother. "Can you imagine, the one parent who gave a damn, dying because of her family? Her husband is the supposed great detective. Her children are killers because of events around them. What else could she have done?"

"Just live a normal life, never once having to choose between love of husband and love of children. It's not like she had to choose in the end."

"Did you know, Fenton? She told us to go off and do what we had to before she died. She didn't care what you were doing because you supposedly knew everything. But we were just fucking teenagers who had no idea what the hell was going on. And she didn't tell us to be good little children and stay on the right side of the law. She told us to do what we want to do.

"So we did. And the best part for you is that if she told us to be goodie two shoes and save your ass, we would have. Her word was that fucking important. But she cared more for what we wanted rather than your expectations." The anger continued to simmer, although the words were whispered. It just made Truth all the more dangerous to deal with. "You can only imagine what it felt like."

"The Network said that the Assassins killed her to convince you to join them." Fenton's voice was flat and unchallenging. He had found his own version of the truth within lies. It was expected.

"No. The Assassins didn't have the manpower then to pull off something and cover it up to whatever degree the Network claimed. And believe me, I checked several times." Truth's hand twitched slightly, unconsciously reaching for one of his daggers within his belt. "You, on the other hand, only have what they handed you as evidence. You've been in a coma for seven years. How the fuck would you know anything about it?"

"It's not like good guys can lie. They are always model truth tellers because they have morals over outcome. They aren't _human_."

"Because at one point or another, we lie to get what we want."

"The Network has no use for the great Fenton Hardy."

"They used your sister too."

The words froze the room. There had been some anger within them, but that was not enough to stall the fact from tearing the elder man down. What had once been an appearance of strength only stopped by shock and metal gave way to frailty. Lies could understand it, to some extent. Seven years was a lot to miss. A lot of lies and an equal amount of truth were waiting to destroy him.

"Tru-" The name was stuck on the man's throat. The denial that he just had with such conviction had violently melted away. The thought of it brought pain somewhere inside of the older assassin. Why was it a sister who had not been seen for such a long time bringing out more emotion that the man's wife? Could he have really fallen for such a lie so deeply?

"Gertrude Hardy was a pawn in their game. She was like you and would not see it for anything but love. She called Mom a bitch." The sentences came out slowly from the blond. It was painful to think about for him. Unlike Lies, however, there was no way for Truth to cover it up. "She tried to kill us. You can guess what happened."

Fenton's mouth opened, then closed. Words that he was lacking made themselves known through his facial expressions. They were weighed with seven year of age that had not reached him until that moment. He looked pathetic to Lies. It couldn't justify all of the misery, but it did brighten his outlook by a bit.

"We lost nothing. You lost nothing. And that makes your life worth it." Lies's hand had kept a steady hold upon the gun. Never once did he waver. He had too much experience for that.

"If anything is retribution, it's your death," Truth muttered. His eyes finally tore away from the clipboard. He tossed it over his shoulder and took his dagger out in a fluid motion before the board could hit the ground. "That's how we were able to move on, Fenton. You would be surprised how much things like this can affect you."

"But to become killers-" The last of the statement died. If he had to guess, Lies would believe that his father's grasp of the façade of a world had shattered. There was a cold comfort in the thought.

"Killing and killing for a living are two separate steps. Just imagine. Just one. Tiny. Push."

Lies pulled the trigger.

* * *

**7 Years Ago**

He had already known something was wrong when she came to pick them up from the hospital. The fact that Gertrude Hardy came should not have been an unusual one. If their father had been missing and their mother was dead, the Hardy children should have gone to her. She was a relative who lived near by, and had more experience than any of their close relative with children. It was even within their wills for the guardianship to transfer to her if they were still minors.

What had bothered Frank about her arrival was her timing. He had checked on his cell phone to receive an approximation for when she would come. As a detective and a killer, he had found that knowing such facts were the most essential thing that he could have done. He also knew to keep track of times of when he did certain things. Placing a phone call was one such thing.

So when Aunt Trudy arrived a good thirty minutes before she should have, he knew that something was wrong.

Of course, he didn't say anything about such a matter. He was supposed to be a teenager suffering grief from the death of his mother. Noticing such things should have been in the realm of impossible. If anything, that was what the woman was relying on. The false sense of security would offer him that much more in retaliation, anyways.

So Frank Hardy had kept quiet on the short trip to the hotel. He had watched quietly as his brother kept himself quiet and his sister glare at the older woman with a hostile curiosity. The feeling of being alone swept over the eldest of the trio sat within him like a rock. It was an uncomfortable position to find himself in. It gave his mind too much time to create its own scenarios of what was to happen. Any and all extreme fell from his imagination, spilling into the cracks his mind had suffered. A hope for something simple as an explanation was just too easy for him to accept. There was always more.

"Well," Aunt Trudy said, the word spilling out as a final judgment, "I don't know how long we'll be here. I told Fenton that he had put himself into a crazy world that was out to kill him. But he didn't listen!"

_Because Fenton Hardy is such a good listener. He always listens to his children when they're going in for a breakdown._ The lies made it easier for Frank to not let lose any of his anger. He had to keep his mask on, after all, if it was expected of him to prevail in whatever waited for them. The duo of guns that he managed to obtain before sat against each hip in hiding. They were a cold comfort about what could play out.

_Because killing your own blood is so easy._

To some level, there was no way to avoid the thought. He had learned that anything was possible within the realm of human minds. He himself had walked the line and saw what twisted things flocked to those who were so close. It was not at all a comfort to the darkness of the world. It made Laura's death more tolerable: she did not have to deal with their Hell anymore.

"What about Mom?" asked Joe. No one questioned what he had meant.

"We've begun to arrange the funeral-"

"Who's we?" Jackie kept her glare to a minimum, allowing some curiosity to filter into her face. Frank could see the lie within the emotions.

"You haven't met him, Jacquelyn. My fiancé has already begun to set up arrangements. He has connections to some of the locals around this area, so it surely won't take too long."

"What does he work in?" The question was out of Frank's mouth before he could let his annoyance be shown. The story had already place in pieces to his understanding of the matter that was waiting before them. She had changed her ways out of love. Even that was more admirable than what Fenton had done.

"Law."

_Such a stupid word to have so little power._ The musing was little comfort.

"Well, here we are." The hotel that stood before them was nothing of grander. There was a sense of borrowed comfort that Frank found with all hotels, but the undertone of homeliness was prevalent as well.

Jackie hummed out something that should have sounded like approval. She cast a glance at Frank, before shifting her gaze to Joe. The blond had suddenly gained some interest in their surroundings. His blue eyes were searching amongst the setting for something. They swept the grounds before turning to Frank.

"Aunt T, can I check out the grounds? I need to…" The rest of the sentence was stuck. There was no twist of truth that would allow itself to leave his throat. Frank could see hints of panic enter his brother.

"We need to clear our heads," Jackie muttered. "We'll only take a second."

With that, the duo was gone. It was almost as if they were never there. There was some pride rising up in the teenager, knowing that his siblings had mastered the skill well enough. "Well, Aunt Trudy, shall we go inside?"

"Oh Frank, you've always kept a level head. I know it must be a rough time, but it'll be easier if we could all just go through it rather than mope." The word came out in a babble-like fashion.

"Thank you, Aunt Trudy. Your ability to stick by your family is also admirable."

"Wh- what?"

"You obviously did not sell us out to the Network. I mean, why would anyone sell out their family to them?" He pulled the revolver out in a swift, practiced movement, and fired shots. Three men fell to the ground from his bullets.

In that same instance, the elder woman had called out a name. It was something that Frank had heard before. A common name. It wasn't the actual name that stuck out to Frank, but the sudden realization that he no longer cared for the names of his victims. The life had more meaning than the name, but never had he realized that the label had suddenly become _boring_.

"You would have never sold us off to some fucking _slaughter_. You're the aunt that everyone knows is strict but caring enough to give up her life for her brother's children." Frank's words were almost a whisper. Around him, there was action that was barely registering to his senses. People were scattering from the sound. They were all unsure of what was playing out, letting their fear take control. It would give him enough time to complete his job and usher his siblings to safety.

He took a few steps forward. His aunt, at this point, was ignoring him in order to attend to the man at her feet. The blood was already staining the concrete below him. Death was too easy to spot in the fallen man.

"You've made this too hard, Aunt Trudy." He aimed the barrel with no haste. It had become second nature to just point at his exact target without worry about being off. There were more words that he wanted to tell her, but there was pain tainting his need to say it. There was too much truth to tell the woman. Not enough lies for his liking.

"You… you monster! He was right! You-"

"I am an upstanding member of society. Just as caring for my family as you are." Frank's words were leveled with something even he didn't understand. "People like you make killing so hard."

He wasn't sure if it was him or what little remained of Snake that pulled the trigger. There was a pang of pain that filled him. But it was simply from telling a partial truth. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was almost too easy.

* * *

**Well, I might as well mention now: once I finish this, I'm just going to finish Truthful Lies and be done with this universe of my mind. So... yeah. Just warning you guys.**

**Next chapter is the last chapter!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Last chapter! Finally! YAY!**

**I'll save the bigger notes for the chapter end. Until then, all I'll say is that I do not own the Hardy Boys, I'm sorry for taking forever, and enjoy!**

* * *

The room was silent. Part of the oppressive air found fault with the younger of the brothers, carrying the weight of the dead. The burden was from his own choice, as years have already given the man experience on how to deal with such things. Any misconceptions that he ever had were hidden from the world. He would rather keep them in secret than a lie.

Lies frowned at the thought of his own reaction to the events. The thought of revenge no longer had the flavor he once imagined it to have. The results were also pushing against him: he could not help but question his own ideals. It would not have been the first time it had happened in his life.

"I should call it a curse, right? I mean, that's how we treated it for years, if we think about it." Truth's head turned slightly as the words came out. "Kind of… fairy tale-like."

"Hm." Lies inclined his head in agreement. He noticed that there was no difference in what feeling pitted his stomach. It was years since saying the truth brought nothing out of his gut. Even when he agreed to Wired's idea of a "civilized" chat with Riddle, there had been some pain. He had never actually to escape it.

"But why would it fall back to him? Why does he matter so much?" Truth's hands, which were folded and had his chin resting on them, began to shake. "We broke away from him for years-"

"That's a lie." The words barely had a moment to mold the mood before Lies continued. "You know as well as I do that he's the reason for our existence. Over two decades, Truth. We can't just erase that."

"Really?" A mocking tone filled the word. "That's not what you said when you killed Aunt Trudy. It just came out so easily because you had washed your hands of her already. Just pulled the fucking trigger and-"

"You called her Aunt Trudy." _And not Gertrude._ The unsaid statement called out to a younger version of Lies, a part of him that he had once thought to be dead. It went well into the past of the man, beyond even Snake's existence.

_Is this what you wanted to be, Frank Hardy? A killer who embraces the fact with glee? Who, until recently, lied with every word spoken?_ The assassin's questions paused for a second. _I was Frank Hardy once. Shouldn't I know the answer?_

Truth's voice began to whisper an answer to his own unasked question. "You know, when I heard that gunshot, I was hoping that she was okay. I thought that it'll be Mom all over again. People just kept dying and leaving us." Truth paused. "It might have been better if that was the truth."

"Maybe." Questions of alternate fates had been a constant thought in the assassin's mind, their aunt's death being one of the more prominent ones. Dreaming of moments that never happened had filled his free time with questions. Each scenario brought an eruption of questions followed by the faint hope of longing. He could never get rid of it.

The two stayed silent as their thoughts came and went. Lies could easily guess, with a certain degree of accuracy, what his brother was thinking about. There had always been a set of questions that had tortured the other's mind. Throughout the years the murmuring of the unknown woke the blond with fitful sleep, not caring to protect him from the truths he kept indulging in. It would explain how the lies worked so well within their lives. There was some sort of irony attached to the nature of their relationship to the world: relying upon lies as a shield from a truth they knew by heart. There was something wrong in the way it worked out in the end. Somehow, instead, it had managed to become normal for the brothers.

It was Lies who broke the silence. "Mom wanted us to be happy with our choices in the end. Even if we did end up on the other side of the law. She… knew."

"The difference between dying at an old age and dying with a smile on our faces." Truth allowed his own words to sink in before continuing. "And she hoped that she was smiling on the operating table if things turned out badly."

"That's because she found her place," the brunette whispered. "If Fenton had only followed afterwards-"

"We could have killed him ourselves." The statement sat with silence as Lies took in his brother's words. After a moment, Truth continued. "Mom probably wouldn't have liked that."

"Because that was our only reason," Lies responded with sarcasm. There was a brief glimmer of the past accompanying the words: a young teenage boy saying the same thing in passing to his blond brother. Frank Hardy would have enjoyed the time back then. He didn't yet understand the full darkness of the world. The realization of his father's role in the boys' lives hadn't tainted the happiness. There was happiness in their ignorance. Any blood on the teenager's hands was accidental, rather than intentional murder. Maybe the brown eyes shone in truth rather than the lies that he had created. It was easier knowing who he was and where he stood in the universe that way.

"You can tell how weird it is, too. Unless shit like this happens on a regular basis and you just never told me." A lopsided grin came directly afterwards. Truth allowed the humor to sink into his own features, setting his blue eyes alight with fire. A hint of a smile was appearing on Lies's face by the time Truth spoke again. "I can't regret this life. Not after all of this."

"The pain was worth something," Lies agreed, the words coming out of his mouth softly. He could feel something inside of him poke at his mind with thoughts and memories of their mother. Was it alright for them to be happy with their current life as she remained buried alone? Or were they truly monsters who cared only for their own wellbeing?

It didn't take long for the brunette to know his answer. They were making do with what they had been left with. The truths and lies that became their life made the darkness tolerable. A teenager would not be able to understand, even if it was Frank Hardy. There had been grief, but not to the level that turned it into pain. Pain was deadlier, forcing one to change in order to survive. Truth and Lies were merely a product of the change. Frank and Joe Hardy could not have understood their older selves because they did not suffer. In some ways, they were luckier than the two Assassins. Yet Lies couldn't find any reason to wish for the teenager's lives: the truth was worth more to him than happiness.

"Has the boss sent anything yet?" Truth asked.

"Nothing yet."

A sigh slipped out of the blond. "You think-"

"No. Yes." Lies shook his head slightly. "Maybe."

"I wouldn't mind dying."

"Neither would I." The thoughts in his head swirled before he added, "Wouldn't mean that I would let myself be executed, though."

"Could we kill the others? If we were pitted against each other… What would be our chances?"

"Does it matter?"

Forgotten's voice was startling to hear, but Lies was careful to not draw his guns. There was something about the King that made him admirable. From his backstory to the sadness that was permanently etched into his face, the man had something that made Lies respect the man to the point of sparing him. Even if it meant dying without a fight.

It was evident that Truth shared the same opinion. His blades remained hidden as he spoke to the leader of the Assassins. "So, how badly did we mess up your plan?"

"We still managed to reach the final objection. Wired is going through all of the data as we speak." A tall, wary figure removed himself from the shadows of the room, his eyes revealing nothing. "The Network took a heavy blow. You'll be happy to know that the woman you spared is one of the few survivors. Your father is another."

"Because we cared so much about him." The lying habit returned to the elder Rook, lacing his voice with sarcasm.

"You allowed him to live. Most people wouldn't have."

"Most people aren't Assassins," Truth offered.

"No. That's not _quite_ it. I haven't forgotten our years together." Forgotten shook his head slightly, more for show than anything else. "Betrayed and Heartless would have killed their father. _I_ would have killed my father."

"And Whisper?" Truth asked softly.

A chuckle rose out of Forgotten. "She would be like you. Fear is more of an ally than death to her."

"Is that why there's no execution? Because we're like her?" There is no malice in Lies's voice, surprising the Assassin as he heard himself speak. He had been expecting some form of anger to spill out with his words. It was an unnamed anger, but anger nonetheless. None of the unwanted surprise or curiosity filtered into his face, however.

"It's because you understand your enemies," Forgotten replied back.

A frown formed on Truth's lips. "What, none of the 'you're better people because you allowed him to live' bullshit?"

"As you so elegantly said, Truthful Rook, it would be bullshit. But there is another reason in which Whispering Knight has informed me of." There was a slight smile that played upon the older man's lips as he spoke. "She said we cannot continue punishing people who are dead. It's only when they are alive that we can gain anything with our actions."

Lies could hear Whisper's voice in his head saying the exact words without hesitance. The need to torture her father was what drove her to stay alive at the end of the day. Her older brother might have been deluded with the belief that she would stay alive for him once Arthur Gray passed away. The Rooks knew better; the thoughts of suicide had kept them company in the dark nights as well.

It was Truth who found the flaw in the logic. "Fenton would be more tortured from our deaths than if we lived. He might not buy fully into redemption, but it's all he has left now."

"But his execution would also harden his resolve to stop the Assassins," Forgotten said, a calm expression overwhelming any other emotions present in his mind.

Lies continued the line of logic, his habit of lying helping him to maintain his sense of normalcy. "A killing while obviously being on the job won't solve anything."

"There would be no way for Fenton Hardy to dispute the facts. He'll be tortured with the thoughts of his sons being a part of an organization he had hoped to destroy years ago. It will haunt him until his deathbed." The King paused, then added, "The idea could even drive him to suicide."

Silence filled the room. It was calm, as if it had been waiting for the unfortunate idea to be spoken before it descended upon the three. Forgotten had a look of calm grace, hardened by the sadness and anger that had sunk into his features of the room. That left the two brothers.

Brown eyes met blue ones. In the back of the brunette's mind, he was replaying all of the promises he made his brother. It went as far back as childhood. Tidbits and full pieces of memory ran through his mind. One part recalled his own observation of the bond between his brother and him, and how one glance could contain a whole conversation. Whether they were Frank and Joe Hardy or Lying and Truthful Rook, they maintained the bond. It if was for anything at all, it was for the sake of having companionship through the Hell of their life.

_Nothing short of our souls,_ Lies mused, his eyes dancing with an unnatural mirth. The blue eyes at the end of his gaze reflected the puzzling but mutual feeling. Beyond it was all of the hopes and fears that neither had voiced since they joined the Assassins. They had always been indifferent to their own deaths, always focusing upon the man they blamed. There had never been a plan for anything beyond the single moment. Lies had a vague feeling that the two would have died before they even reached this point in time. It was not a suicidal wish made upon calculated chances: it had been their reality.

Lies never realized that they had nothing to live for beyond the single moment.

_Sorry Mom. We couldn't even give you some grandkids._ There was no regret in the thought. He gave his brother a nod.

"We die on the job by whatever is thrown at us. No staged deaths." Truth didn't break the eye contact. His voice was steady, yet was touched with an autopilot feel. "Suicidal missions are preferred. We'll still do our best to succeed-"

"We're not _completely_ suicidal," Lies muttered, not sure whether the statement was true or not.

"-although ending up in coffins is alright by our standards. And at whatever funeral or whatever ends up happening, Riddle is the first one to talk to Fenton."

A frown pulled at Forgotten's lips. "How do you know that she won't join you?"

"There's no anchor pulling her to death," Truth said. "Survival might not be the biggest thing for her, but she's not suicidal."

The brothers received a nod. "Your conditions are agreeable. If I'm allowed to say, I prefer you both alive over dead. But as you wish."

Forgotten King turned to the door, his footsteps normal and calm. He managed to reach the doorstep before asking his question. "Are you two prepared to die?"

_We lost Mom. We can't forgive the man we once called Dad. We kill for a living and saved others in the process. We lost friends and gained people who we would trust with our lives. Our own deaths mean nothing to us._

_Frank and Joe Hardy are gone. Maybe Snake left too._

The brothers looked at each other once again. The conversation that passed within the second was too fast to give it words. It gave Lies permission to answer while dispelling the need to be completely truthful or deceptive. It no longer mattered if it was a lying truth or a truth lie. It was whatever Lying Rook wanted it to be, Truthful Rook agreeing with the real meaning behind the single word.

"Yes."

* * *

**Seven Years Ago**

They were at Laura Hardy's grave. It was on the other side of the country, but neither of the brothers could find it within themselves to be picky of the location. Joe had made a passing remark about the topic at one point of their journey. It was something that the other Assassins barely heard above the chatter within the plane, yet Frank focused upon with practiced ease.

"_At least Fenton would have a hard time finding her."_

The other Assassins had given their condolences with little flare, allowing the two enough room to grieve what they had lost. Even Jackie, who knew Laura decently well in the time that they spent together, was hesitant in staying at the grave with Frank and Joe. She was the closest person they had who could understand what was going on, yet she was removed from the moment. The balancing act seemed natural to her. With a few well-placed words, she was able to give enough of herself away without plunging into the unknown.

"_She deserved to live. That's why she died."_

Frank kept his own tongue in check. Forgotten King, the leader of the Assassins, had already discovered the addiction that the brunette to lying. Through the man, Betrayed Queen and Whispering Knight had learned and kept to their silence. But the others were relatively unaware of what the teenagers possessed. Frank preferred it that way, waiting for the right time before the world discovered what it had created.

"You know how Forgotten said that they cast away their birth names when they become Assassins?" Joe asked quietly. He was kneeling at the gravesite, his head leveled with the top of the tombstone. "We should do that. I don't like being Joe Hardy anymore."

"Joe Hardy is so fitting," Frank muttered, looking around to make sure that no one else was in hearing distance. The lie came out simply, managing to convey everything he needed to.

"Everyone is only a piece on the chessboard. Forgotten liked playing a lot. I guess that's why the top members are named after the pieces." Joe paused. His hand lifted up to rest over the name forever engraved onto the stone. Whisper had taken pity on them, and made sure that a nice plot and gravestone was procured. The font wasn't elegant, but stood out. "We're that good, Frank. Have you ever thought about it?"

"Never." It was a curious fact: they were only teenagers, yet each of them was offered a spot as some of the top Assassins. There had been no argument. At worst, Betrayed had smiled and told them to prepare. "What about it?"

"We're obviously going to be the same piece. We're brothers and all. But there's the fact of the names."

"What about it?" Frank repeated. He finally returned his gaze to the grave, allowing the image to be burned into him memory. There was the inevitable fact that they may never be able to see it again. It was finalizing, yet kept everything within reality.

"I was talking to Jackie about it last night. She's going to become the Riddle Bishop. It's… kinda weird how she changed. But she mentioned how we work together to kill. How they're probably never going to split us up because we do everything so well together." The blond paused. Behind his blue eyes the brunette could see the thoughts collecting themselves, trying to make sense of everything. "We're a definite combo of success."

"You see a connection to chess?" It was the only way Frank could get to the matter without using his lies as a front.

"Yes, I do." Joe turned his head, his eyes closed with a sense of peace and acceptance. He paused, allowing the silence to slip between the two. The moment wasn't broken when the teenager opened his eyes. Instead, there was a sudden weight that appeared and rested against Frank's shoulders. The blue eyes that were looking back were clouded with the trouble that had been tormenting the teenager. Somehow, the sky blue shade appeared darker with the pass pain and impending trials.

_What are my chances of seeing someone with those eyes again?_ Frank wondered silently.

"Jackie told me that you already came up with a name. Lying Rook, huh?" Joe let an easy smile fall to his lips. "I kept thinking 'Why rook?' That's when I remembered that chess move you taught me when I was younger. Even when the board is practically cleared, two rooks can make all the difference. That's what we are sometimes, aren't we? I'm mean, our luck is ridiculously high sometimes."

Frank couldn't help but let a smile touch his own lips. The line of thought his brother was creating wasn't hard to follow. "Truthful Rook?"

The blond ducked his head slightly. "Since I'm not going to be Joe Hardy anymore, I thought... well, I still wanted to show that there is a connection. That I'm, well, you know, related to you."

"I'm not part of your past," Frank muttered. Even then, the lies slipped out of his mouth with ease.

"That's why I need you. You're probably the only good thing I have left." A humorless chuckle escaped the blond. "Doesn't this fucking suck? We were supposed to be some kind of model family, weren't we? Parents didn't divorce, siblings who got along. Perfect family and all. And look where we are now." The younger teenager swept an arm around. Frank followed with his eyes, observing all of the graves that surrounded them.

"Perfection breeds perfection," Frank said.

"Why are we any different? If we go by that logic, then Arthur Gray should have had a perfect family. But he created conflict between them. They grew apart, things took a turn for the worst, and now they're on opposite sides of the sword. Fenton didn't pit us against each other, but he hurt us. And now he's in a coma."

Frank frowned at the information. He had hoped the keep the fact that Joe's attack, in combination with other factors, had led to the detective's coma. Even the lies couldn't keep the facts away from his brother for long. All Frank wanted was time. Joe needed time to mourn and heal. With any luck, he would also understand that the injury he inflicted wasn't worth self-reflection. No matter how much blood was split, his brother had walked away from that moment clean in his eyes.

"I want to be Truthful Rook. I think that it'll be awesome."

"Your imagination is running, Truth." The name fell off of the brunette's tongue easily. It was almost as if the name was more natural than "Joe Hardy." The concept wasn't unbelievable, but it made sense to him. The teenager wasn't expecting much else.

"Already with the names, Lies?" the blond shot back, his lips falling to an easy smile. "Wow, that was… easy. Kinda nice." He got up, using his arms on his knees to prop himself up. "Well, time for the big bad world, isn't it? Gotta prove myself and all."

_You're not the only one who needs to prove something._ There was a sharp twinge of pain that coarse through his body, but he ignored it. There were some truths that he couldn't hide with his lies.

That fact would never stop him, however. He would always a liar.

* * *

**So, it is done! Yay!**

**Now for some endnotes:  
-_Truthful Lies_, which was supposed to be the companion piece for this, is discontinued. Yeah, I know, right? D: However, I will admit that finishing this story already was a bit of a struggle. That and the next bit of news is the overall reason for why I am not continuing it.**

**-THERE WILL BE A REWRITE/REBOOT (of sorts). (And yes, capital letters are needed.) If anyone has noticed in this story, I have improved my writing skills (or, at least, I like to think so). I've also had time to think about how I would have made the whole Assassins story work better than I did here. I believe that what I have thought of would be really cool to one day write. And I will rewrite all of this. However, it won't be anytime soon. But there will be one in the future that reworks the whole story as well as gives the other Assassins more screen time.**

**Other than that, thank you everyone who has read this story! More thanks to those who have reviewed! And even more who waited forever for me to update! *hugs all aroundd* Until next story~**


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